


Fleeting Perfection

by Seventeen_Tim_Drake



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Attempted Suicide, Bruce Wayne is Trying, Bruce is a good parent, Canon Divergence, Other, Sad Tim Drake, Tim Drake Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:14:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23133001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seventeen_Tim_Drake/pseuds/Seventeen_Tim_Drake
Summary: Tim Drake was always said to be perfect, but then, he wasn’t.He doesn’t take this too well.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 42
Kudos: 320





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’m... sorry. Tim, I love you.

Family. Timothy has never understood the sentiment behind the word. To him, it was just another empty word, a mere husk of its supposed perfection, a baffling locution he could not understand for the life of him.

For fuck's sake, even the demon brat understood the term, it is only him who does not.

Honestly, who could blame Tim? Being raised to be the perfect son for the Drake's, yet he is barely acknowledged. He was a mere tool of socialization to his own parents, a bragging right. Nothing more, nothing less. Then, when he was catapulted to a new chance, to the Wayne's, his newly-found happiness was built upon a shaky foundation of guilt and forced obligation.

He was always accompanied by the blaring fact that he was unwanted from the start, and he opted to live through it, in the foolish hopes that someone would notice, would want him. No one ever did.  
  


He was always invisible to them, his so-called family.

Shakily, he takes the unholy cup of pure black liquid and downs its entirety, wishing to bury himself in work rather than self-pity. To at least be of use to the people who he once found solace in, now only finding pain in their filial moments; The ones he always seemed to be the only one conveniently left out. It was difficult, but he made it work.

_I do not need nor want to beg for attention. I receive the perfect amount_.

\----

It's another gala for Bruce to be an actual CEO, Dick to be his charming self, the no-longer dead Jason to stay solitary at his corner, Damian to be the usual grouch he is, and the girls who always conveniently book a 'Girls-Day Party!' to be absent once more.

They were all showcasing a real portion of themselves; All except Tim. How could he when he could no longer discern his true self from all his tempting lies. Or rather, was it because he was never actually genuine? That he was just a personification of all his lies? The thought is a frightening one, yet it is one he always carried with little care.

"Timothy!" Snapping away from his thoughts, he looked up and showed no signs of his prior self-deprecation, successfully taking the role of a charming protege, his smile charmingly fake to the point it is convincing.

The voice that sounded his name was one of a potential business partner, henceforth he shone in his lying nature, the Perfect Son. "Is there any way I could be of assistance, Monsieur?"

The seventeen-year-old has long since accepted that he was just bred purely for social reasons. Being a Drake and a Wayne, he would naturally hold far more influence and connections; In his youth and power, Tim is the perfect target.

_June 13._

\----

It was a patrol night but Tim voluntarily stayed inside, opting to handle the mundane tasks the others will obviously neglect.

There's a high likelihood that Bruce has forgotten his company altogether, at this point.

Tim handles it all with utmost sufficiency and finishes a month's load of work for at least eight people in one night, showcasing his capabilities, but it all goes over everyone else's heads; Including the miracle worker himself, unfortunately.

His thoughts were muffled with insults on how he should've been able to finish more and yet he had not. How unproductive he was, his thoughts all circled this idea.

Long forgotten was the calming brew of tea Alfred placed down his table, as the teen went straight for his guilty pleasure; Coffee. Placing a pill of white undetected, he drinks up the steaming liquid wishing for its effects to kick in immediately.

Another night for Tim to stay by his lonesome.

_June 17._

\----

Excited for once, and had actual expectations of praise, Tim ran towards Dick's chambers, meaning to deliver news of an achievement. Knocking on the door, Tim patiently waited for the disheveled eldest to come out. He wanted him to be the first one to know that Tim had finally done it, earned his Bachelor's and Master's Degree in Computer Science. Much earlier than his peers to boot.

Once Grayson did come out, he sleepily stared at the teenager, making Tim flinch as he saw the ice in his gaze. That isn't normal-not for Dick, at least.

"What?" Grayson growled, his usually overwhelming affection nonexistent.

"I-I'm sorry. I thought Barbara was here; I wanted to ask her help for something." Tim's smile faltered and made up a bullshit excuse at the spot, leaving a confused, still-apathetic Grayson.

The younger left, and the man shrouded in confusion shrugged and resumed his rightful nap.

Tim attempted to show Alfred next, but already being disheartened, he decided to hide the piece of useless paper in a corner of his room, never to surface ever again. He consumes yet another pill of white. There was a little blade, and as the idea surfaced, it was crushed immediately.

It doesn't matter anyway. I won't be useful to them if I keep this up. I would be less perfect, then.

_June 23._

\----

Jason had sneaked into the manor once more and noticed Tim typing away furiously to his computer, his stress visible to anyone who witnessed the scene.

Curious , Jason tries to sneak a look at his work but he somehow was pinned down by the sleep-deprived 'replacement' of his, henceforth screaming in surprise, "What the fuck-!?"

Seemingly to snap out of a trance, Tim stands up and apologized profusely, in which Jason grumbled and ignored the third.

His silent grumblings undoubtedly reached Tim's ears, ensuring Tim that he was meant to hear the indirectly direct insults:

'Annoying pretender'

'Damn replacement'

Those were of the lesser delicate grumbles that came out, further saddening Timothy. A white pill was in the vicinity, and it was taken. The same blade was there, this time, the idea was entertained.

He brushed off the hurt in his stomach and continued with the papers, to be perfect.

_June 27._

\----

Damian was at it again, relentlessly bullying Tim with remarks that he could never shake off.

"Grayson assigned me the Robin mantle because he sees I'm far more competent than you are!" Damian slurred, and Tim didn't answer.

It's just another round of useless bantering. One that Tim refuses to indulge in anymore than he has.

Damian will not stop and what he says is true. It's best to stay quiet and listen, Tim told himself repeatedly. The little bully eventually got bored and went to pet Titus, leaving Tim to sigh.

No one helped again... Am I really just a nuisance to this family? I shouldn't care. I shouldn't have emotions. To be perfect.

Tim takes two white pills, the blade bloodied slightly.

_July 3._

\----

With Alfred asleep in his well-deserved vacation, Tim had the manor to himself.

That night, the walls looked empty and white. Resembling those in Drake Manor, a place he knew only to contain emptiness. That night would be his last if he had any say in it.

_July 18._

———

Clutching onto papers Tim had thought would define him—birth certificate, adoption papers, hidden graduation letters, tears stung his eyes.

Besides him was a bloodied knife and an empty bottle of (slow-acting poison).

He was in his room, deceptively peaceful. Nobody should be in the Manor, the vigilantes out and dear old Alfred in Europe, so chances of anyone finding him in time to rush him to the med bay is next to nothing.

The clock strikes, and he lifts his eyes. July 19.

A knock sounds and Tim is surprised. Bruce.

No, no, no! Nobody supposed to be home!!

Mangled arms, erratic breathing and all, Tim widens his eyes and sprints away, falling a second later.

Bruce, receiving unsettling sounds as a response, bursts through the door ready to attack the assailant, only to find his son on the floor arms mangled, and a bloody knife on the table.

Tim picks himself and tries to run again. As he was weak and gangly, Bruce caught him almost immediately. Unable to meet the disappointment in his father figure's eyes, Tim kept his eyes down, desperately trying to choke down sobs.

"Tim," Bruce whispers, gentle like the wind, "please, settle down. I'm going to call for help now."

"NO!" Tim shouts, emotions a spur, blurring and indistinguishable, "Why are you here!?"

"You're not supposed to be here! You're supposed to be everywhere else! But! Here!"

"Why are you here..." Tim breaks down in sobs, and the white pills take their effect. Tim's eyes become glossy, then the color is made into a matte gray immediately after. His pulse was weak, but still there.

Bruce scramble to contact emergency, trying damnedest to keep the waning pulse there.

The emergency team arrives, and Tim is taken away hopefully in time, Bruce assisting the team.

Chest tight and horrendously dizzy, Bruce didn't want to risk it. The professionals should handle this.

Left at his door, Bruce goes to one of his cars and turns on the comms, "Everyone, return to the cave. Now. Stay put until I return, no room for negotiation."

———

It was a miracle, but Tim made it. The whole length of his two arms were wrapped in bandages, and was tied to the side after his third attempt of stealing and jabbing a needle to his throat. Under heavy anesthesia.

Bruce enters and Tim stares, his eyes empty, "Please, just let me go."

"I know you're hurting, Tim," Bruce kneels down to hold the railing, as close as he can get to hold his son's hands. "and even if I don't know why, I want to find out."

Tim shake his head, weakly repressing to himself. Bruce's heart breaks.

"Please, Tim," he pleads, "Let me help you. The same way you helped me when I went through my darkest." 

Tim shakes his head again.

———

"Alfred," Bruce greeted the elderly butler, dropping his head to his torso, seeking for comfort. "Tim..."

That one sentence was all it took for Alfred to tighten his hold. "What has happened to Master Tim?"

"I want you to keep him company in his hospital room," Bruce pleads from his oldest friend. "Right now, I have to look for what happened to him..."

"He was happy with us, right, Alfred?" Bruce couldn't help but ask. Selfishly wanting reassurance. "He'd fight to stay with us, won't he?"

"Of course he was happy. You got to him in time, didn't you? It may seem too late, but he's still able to be saved," With one last squeeze, Alfred leaves for the hospital. "I'll make sure he won't hurt himself any further."

Bruce enters the cave and sees everyone there. Including Jason.

"Everyone's here," Bruce nods, but Damian tuts in disagreement.

"Everyone but Red Robin," Damian reminds Bruce of the absence of one Timothy Drake.

Bruce looks down, and in an earnest voice, "Can you all please drop your masks?"

"What's the cinch, b," Dick asks, serious and expectant of a mission, taking his mask off nonetheless. "We've been waiting for almost a week."

"Yeah, must be hell of a mission if you're making us drop the vigilante act for even a minute, let alone a week," Jason agrees, taking off his as well. He wanted to bite back a 'hell no,' but Bruce's voice threw him off.

With his three boys facing him, Bruce takes them all in an embrace, tense but warm. "I love each and every single one of you. Do you all know that? Everything I do, from the time I first got Dick to now, everything is all for you."

"Whoa," Jason whistles, awkwardly breaking away, "Must be really serious."

Dick breaks off the hug as well, Damian alone remaining in his father's arms, "Bruce, what's going on?"

"All if you are so strong I your own ways, and I'm proud of all of you," Bruce continues. Because he was a coward, this happened. Because he couldn't say it in time to Tim, this happened.

Damian clutches further, Jason and Dick shuffling to their feet.

"All of you are so different and strong in so many ways," He can't stop now, "Promise to approach someone, even if it isn't me, when things get rough."

Dick goes in to question his father again, but gets cut off. "Promise me."

All three boys swallow, nodding along.

"Do you all want to know something interesting about Tim?" Now, the three boys are really confused.

"Our relationship, his and mine, is marginally different to the ones I have with you. We began our interactions with me as your care-taker, but it was the opposite with Tim." The sad smile on Bruce's face was faint, "You should know, Dick. He approached you first."

"It takes a lot to father that boy, especially when he's so adamant he doesn't need one, even going through making an entire fake uncle to avoid adoption," Bruce chuckled at the memory. "So manipulative and meticulous, the best damn liar I've ever met."

All three narrow their eyes at their father, feeling hurt for their sibling, a threatening seethe beginning to form on their mouths.

"It takes so much to know if anything's wrong with him at all in the first place," Bruce sighed, finally getting to the part he's been dancing around, "that it takes seeing Tim with mangled arms after an overdose attempt to finally figure out he's hurting."


	2. Imperfection's Hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timothy's failed suicide attempt causes him to go into the deep end of his depressive psychosis.
> 
> "Let this old man have his selfish wish of seeing you once more.” Alfred requests from Timothy's limp form. Tim stays silent and squeezes his eyes shut further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mental illnesses and disorders are no joke. I am by no means an expert, but I hope I covered depressive psychosis well enough in Tim's case. To those who are or knows someone who is going through such a disorder, I hope you get help! You can get through it, fighting!

Alfred enters the room and witnesses the sorry state of his grandson, glinting tears threatening to fall.

Timothy was forcibly put to sleep and put under screen monitors to monitor his vitals in the case of complications. The doctors were still running tests to see how much drugs was inside the boy's lithe body and hence cannot be put through any medications at the moment, leaving the boy in pain. 

"Oh dearest Timothy, I'm deeply sorry for all this," Alfred was left to stare, watching with much sadness in his heart. He grazes Tim's face, brushing off strands of hair to see his face much clearer, "I hope you recover soon, my dear boy. Let this old man have his selfish wish of seeing you once more.”

———

The silence in the room was deafening, a pin could be heard dropping. 

Jason puts on his helmet and storms out.   
  


“Jason!” Dick called out, stretching his arm to stop his wayward brother from going, “Where are you going!?”

“Somewhere away from this bullshit B’s saying,” Jason replied, riding away in his motorcycle. He keeps his head down, “It can’t be true!”

Loathe as he was to admit, but this was a situation Jason expected to happen. Just, _not_ to Tim, _not to baby-bird_.   
  
  


IT CAN’T BE TRUE!

So, he runs his hunk of machinery and rides out in dangerous speeds. Those weren’t tears glistening in his eyes, because it isn’t true.   
  


“Grayson...” Damian reached out, “Leave him be.”

Dick lowers his arm, looking sad and melancholy before a flash of anger surged through his eyes, "He promised..."

"HE PROMISED!!" A roar of anger echoes in the cave as Dick punched the nearest surface, leaving for the upstairs gym, noises of crackling fury signaled that he should be left alone.

_Because, Dammit!_ He _thought_ Tim trusted him again! Clearly he still _hasn't_ earned back Tim's trust if the younger _doesn't even reach out_!

Dick is mad. Mad at Tim for lying. Mad at Jason for storming out. Mad at the situation. But mostly, mad at _himself_.

Damian seemed oddly quiet, his voice soft and uncharacteristically weak as he approached Bruce, "Is Drake going to be fine? When can we... see him?"

It was so easy to forget that he was so young, but the crack of his voice reminded Bruce. Reminded him violently.

Bruce remains silent. He tugs Damian into a hug as a silent recompense. 

* * *

Tim keeps silent. Alfred was behind him, talking as if he wasn't aware of Tim's conscious state.

Alfred, please stop, Tim cries. Don't pretend.

He feels guilty, ignoring the older man like he was doing now. Tim has never done that before, nor has he ever wished to. The elder deserved so much better than Tim. Better than Screw-up Tim..

_Look! He can't even die correctly! Imagine screwing up death!?_

Tim lets out a sob. _Why couldn't he just die? It would've been so much easier for him and everyone else!_

Alfred notices the sob, but comments nothing about it. He pets Tim's crown, "I am here, Master Tim."

The vision swirls and Alfred was no longer. Tim was caressed by his inner voice and he cowers in fear. His brothers emerge from the smoke, and he is tormented once more.

"I'm sorry," He whispers into the abyss. "Someone, please just kill me."

"You already screwed that up," his inner voice laughed.

* * *

A week has passed, and finally, Tim is allowed visitors. 

Not many know about the incident, and it was generally kept within the Wayne's. In fact, no one else was told about it. Not even Cass. Or Steph. Or Babs. No one.

It was kept within wraps.

Tim sees Bruce. He is fine. 

Tim sees Alfred. He is fine, too.

What he wasn't ready for was to see his brothers. 

Realistically, Tim knew they would visit in due time. Still, his breath hitched at the sight of their entrance. His heart quickens, his breathing becomes erratic. 

Their smiles and sneers weren't something he expected, the hidden mockery within them sickening and on full-blast.

Tim crumbles, his throat constricted. Panic was all over his being. 

~~_He couldn't! He couldn't take it! Not today! Not their mockery nor their presence! Not today!_ ~~

~~_Dick looks at him in scorn. Damian and Jason laugh, "You're so weak."_ ~~

~~_Bruce and Alfred stay silent._ ~~

~~_"Since you screwed up dying," Jason taunted, "Would you want help?"_ ~~

~~_Bruce and Alfred remain silent as Tim struggled for air._ ~~

Tim screamed and the nurse that was charged of waking him up signaled for emergency backup, all the while attempting to calm down the seventeen-year-old.

"NO!!" Tim screamed, thrashing his arms around, causing a commotion.

Then, he goes scarily limp, his previously erratic heart rate going flat within a second. The nurse panics and changes the signal to code red while proceeding with procedural CPR. Tim is immediately transferred into the ER where they attempt to restart his heart.

* * *

"Mr. Wayne," The phone call started, "There had been complications we would like to disclose, please come in as quick as you could."

That phone call crumbled Bruce's already-shaky composure.

"We are afraid that Timothy has experienced momentary heart failure due to, what we could only guess at the moment as extreme stress wrought on by a rather severe panic attack."

At that, Bruce was a blur in the streets, his car roaring and passing every turns all to get to the hospital as quick as he could.

* * *

Tim laid, pale but alive.

"Mr. Wayne," A strapping young man in a coat called--Thomas Harper, an acclaimed genius in the medical field, the one who tended to Tim.

"Harper, right?" Bruce questioned, staring only at his son. "What went wrong?"

"Yes, sir. We haven't found any physical indication of a trigger in the boy's system," Harper started. "We have, however, examined medical records of his immediate relatives and find the possibility of the incident being a case of-"

"Psychotic breakdown," Bruce finished. "No, no- I remember from examining his family records when adopting him, Janet has had a history with experiencing depressive psychosis."

"Is that what's going one?"

"We believe so, Mr. Wayne." Harper continued, giving context to how they came to the conclusion. "The nurse that was on watch with Timothy has relayed how he mumbled whines of "No," "I'm sorry," and "Please stop!" before he was sent into a panicked frenzy."

"There are no specialists present in this area, but we have already made arrangements with some of the best from abroad. We wanted to consult you on who you would want to bring in, assuming that you did want to bring them in," Harper finished, looking at Bruce in the eye, waiting for his response.

Bruce doesn't respond immediately, shooting out his arms to ask for the folder on the given specialists. "Bring them all in. Anyone and everyone to help my child."


	3. Faultless Ideal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce gathers with his children. 
> 
> Tim will get better sooner or later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so this will mostly follow the other batbros coping from the situation. It's also very short, but please enjoy!

Tim was in therapy. Tim has been properly diagnosed. Tim crumbles once he hears the prognosis. He stays in the hospital longer.

_He was never perfect._

Tim crumbles further.

* * *

Jason visits during the night, discreet and unseen. He hasn't made any contacts with the other bats for two months--Ever since he got the news, really.

No one has been allowed to visit and word about everything has been kept securely hush.

Jason looks at Tim, breathing but utterly miserable. He enters through the window without thinking.

The room was cold and void of anything Tim. Not even a morsel of a mess that Timbit seemed to swim in.

He walks slowly, not wishing to be here at all, still holding onto the belief that this wasn't real. 

Jason watches. Tim shifts.

Opening his eyes, he sees Jason's figure. Jason attempts a smile. Tim screams.

Tim screams, raw fear in his eyes, holding up his arms as if to protect himself from an upcoming onslaught from the man. It never comes, nor would it ever.

Jason is surprised due to the pleading, hurt that Tim would fear him to this extent, "Timbo..."

"Please make this quick," Tim cries, blue eyes filled with hopelessness, "I'm tired."

This confuses Jason.

_He hasn't laid a finger on Tim in years..._

"Timmers, you know I'm not going to hit you... Right?" Jason doesn't receive an answer. 

* * *

Bruce sees Jason, watches how his son in sluggish and seemingly heavy.

He knows about his little visit. Bruce approaches and offers a hug. Jason accepts, silent tears falling.

They return to the manor, Jason sleeps.

* * *

Bruce enters the gym and catches Dick's arm. He's been punching the same bag for hours, his bandages thoroughly torn, skin almost falling off.

"Listen to me, chum," Bruce starts, forcibly dragging his eldest to the medical station, "This isn't your fault."

"Bruce, don't lie to me..." Dick looks away in shame, "The whole fiasco with Robin, the way I handled it, the way I called him unstable--"

"Aren't the only reason why." Bruce interrupts with a finality. Dick startles and straightens his back.

"Look, chum, this isn't the best way to atone for your past faults." Wiping off the sweat on Dick's forehead, Bruce looks at him straight in the eye, "You won't be helping Tim by punishing yourself."

"The best way to apologize is by helping him get over this."

With those words, Bruce leaves Dick to his thoughts. Dicks stares at his bandaged hands and tears finally fall.

_He screwed up so much already... Yet, here he was, screwing it up more..._

Dick allows himself to cry with his whole heart. Come tomorrow, he'll finally be able to apologize. For everything he's done to Tim.

* * *

Damian was largely left alone, using art to distract himself, his charcoal never leaving his canvas paper.

His usually shining colors were absent from his previous art style, a shift far too noticeable to be commented on.

Filling up his sketchbook far too quickly, Damian realizes he is on his last page. He looks back and notices the shift beginning from the thirteenth to the hundredth page. They were filled with monochrome and Drake...

Drake working in the cave, out in the field, as a CEO, asleep. It was filled with Drake.

Bruce enters. They don't speak, and Damian could be found with his face buried in his father's chest, arms securely wrapped around him. 

Those weren't tears. Those weren't tears, Damian swears.

* * *

Come Monday morning, they will be allowed to visit. Come Monday, they smile with a certain hope.

Somehow, they just know that they'll be able to get through this.

Years later, Tim smiles for the first time in too long.

His inner demons disperse into dust, their disgusting leers the last to disappear. Tim pays it no mind.

The family celebrates. They are whole again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, this may feel like it's grossly oversimplified. In real life, these things sometimes turn out a little differently. But, having a foundation and a network of people will help immensely!

**Author's Note:**

> Uhh, hi?? Greetings to the people who gave this fic a chance and is actually reading this note...
> 
> This is my first fic so I’d love to see what you guys think. Is this a cheesy end note?? Probably. 
> 
> Anyway, please leave comments because I revel in other’s praises more than I’d like to admit...


End file.
